Green Eyed Maia
by Keymasten
Summary: What if the Valar took in Harry's soul after death? Reborn as a Maia and sent to Middle-Earth, how will Harry change things that were, things that are and some things that have not yet come to pass? (One Shots and Short Stories of Harry as a powerful force in Middle-Earth)
1. Young Bird - Pt 1

Frodo was scared. He had been grabbed by a stranger after accidentally donning the ring in the middle of the Prancing Pony. Sam and the others had come to rescue him, but he wasn't sure they would be much help against the weathered ranger, who had introduced himself as Strider. They now stood inside one of the rooms, Hobbits on one side, Strider on the other, both parties tense and unsure of what to do. There was a terrible screech from the street and the Hobbits recoiled, the sound had been shrill but sharper than any bird Frodo had ever heard. Strider broke the stillness and quickly busied himself with checking his bags and began moving towards the door.

"We cannot wait for Gandalf, we must leave now."

Merry was the first to speak up. "What was that!?"

"A Ringwraith, a servant of the Enemy."

He turned and pointed at Frodo,

"They will hunt what you carry until the ocean's turn to dust and the sun darkens. They have only one purpose, to return the ring to its master. Now come quickly."

Minutes later, the motley group watched as the terrifying figures tore an empty room apart, then fled out of the inn in a rage. Strider released a breath and the group hurried onto the trail following Strider's path.

/

Morning had soon come and they were making headway, Sam and Frodo were following closer to Strider while Merry and Pippin took up the rear.

"We must be careful, one slip and the Nine will be back on our trail."

"Where are we going now?"

"To Rivendell, Master Hobbit, and the House of Elrond"

"You hear that Mister Frodo? We're going to see the El-"

His sentence was cut short as Strider tackled the two into a nearby bush. Their cries of surprise muffled by Strider's hand over their mouths. Merry and Pippin were engrossed in the food they had snuck out of the Prancing Pony before they left and took no notice of their missing guide.

In the undergrowth Frodo and Sam looked to Strider who whispered, "Someone approaches we must be sure the Black Riders have not caught up with us."

The trio could still hear the mutterings of Merry and Pippin until a loud number of bird calls filled the air. The two hobbits shouted and Strider burst from the bush sword drawn and expertly placed at the back of their assailant.

Standing over the two Hobbits was a man with a shock of black raven hair that dipped to his shoulder, he had young face with brilliant green eyes. His clothes didn't betray much, he had a black cloak with dark feathers laced into the hem. His coat doubled over his breast and was held in place by two emerald buttons and he wore simple breeches and boots. At his waist was a small blade of some kind along with a number of small pouches. He held a long staff of dark brown smooth wood, with a carving of a raven's head taking the place of the top; the eyes of which glinted with pitch black stones.

Seemingly unperturbed by the blade pointed at his spine, the stranger turned around and gave Strider a smirk. "Estel, what do you think you're doing pointing a blade at your elder? Don't you know it's rude?"

Strider resembled a fresh caught fish; mouth agape he quickly sheathed his sword and embraced the new comer in a tight hold. "Moriond! Haha!"

Strider (or Estel?) pulled back and shook his friend's shoulders, "Why are you here? Last I remember hearing, you had made your way to Lothlorien."

The newly named Moriond chuckled, "I was making my way down to the Gap of Rohan when I received word from some of my eyes that Black Riders were scouring the land, and that they do so this close to Rivendell is worrying, so I decided to investigate. Imagine my surprise, when my familiars tell me my favourite ranger is making his way through the ruff accompanying four Hobbits. I just had to investigate!"

Moriond turned back to Merry and Pippin and helped them stand, the duo had fallen in fright when Moriond had appeared.

"My apologies, I meant to give Estel a good shock but got you two instead." Moriond patted the two on the shoulders apologetically.

"No trouble," Merry lifted his chin, "if you had given us a few more seconds you would have received an unpleasant surprise."

Moriond smirked, "I'm sure I would," he turned to Strider forgoing his teasing smirk for a serious expression, "what's going on? I haven't heard from Gandalf in months. I received a message to make for Rivendell and then nothing."

Strider had seemingly calmed down, he quickly looked to the horizon, judging the hours left of daylight. "Come we make for Rivendell ourselves and your company would be a welcome sight."

The group quickly resumed their travel. Eventually, Samwise couldn't hold his curiosity, he leaned closer to Strider and whispered, "Strider, umm, who exactly is this Moriond character? Can he be trusted?"

Strider blinked, lost for a few moments, before he answered, "You mean you have never heard of Moriond? Perhaps he referred to him as Hadrian?," the hobbits shook their heads, "I thought Gandalf would have at least mentioned him to you Frodo."

Frodo frowned, "Why would he mention him to me?"

"Well because Moriond is a Wizard."

The four Hobbits nearly tripped, Pippin and Merry immediately objected, "WHAT!? - But he's so young! - Are you sure you've not been duped Strider?"

" _CAW_!"

The entire party looked up to see a huge flock of birds drift and begin to circle overhead. There were crows, jays, songbirds and even a few hawks. Suddenly a grand white owl flew down, the hobbits ducked as the bird swooped over their heads. When they stood up, the bird had landed on Moriond's arm and was greedily eating some treats that Moriond was holding.

"Yes, yes, Hovig. I'm glad to see you" Moriond said to the bird sweetly, stroking its feathers.

The owl looked up and stared deep into Moriond's eyes then hooted quietly. Moriond frowned, then gave the wintery bird a nod and a kiss. It kicked off from his arm, then the entire flock scattered.

Moriond turned back to the group and caught Strider's eye. "We need to keep moving, I've lost sight of the Riders."

Strider nodded and then quickly got the group moving again, with Moriond taking up the rear and engaging Merry and Pippin with questions of the Shire. Frodo cast his eyes to the horizons and shivered as he thought of the coming night.

/

Frodo was scared. His friends, though he loved them each dearly, were a few logs short of a fire. He thought after arriving at the ancient ruin of Weathertop, they would be able to rest safe for the night. The ravenous hunger of his three companions put an end to that. He smothered their cooking fire too late, the Ringwraiths had found them. They had faced the black figures, fearing for their lives. He laid now on the ground clutching his shoulder waiting for the end.

Suddenly, two figures burst into the stone plateau; one wielding a torch and a sword, the other a lit staff and a short sword. They pushed the wraiths back. Once the enemy had been pushed, Moriond thrust his staff forward and a huge owl of white light emerged and charged the wraiths, crashing into them and flinging them from the mesa. Their screams echoed into the night. His vision, which had been slowly fading was suddenly filled with light, the owl had landed on his stomach. The shadows receded and the pain lessened. He could hear the muffled voices of Moriond and Strider speaking as he was lifted and placed on someone's back.

Time passed in a blur, seconds lasted hours, hours ticked by as minutes; Frodo could no longer tell how long they had been moving. He could faintly hear Sam's worried tones and Strider's comforting rumble. Moriond didn't seem to be speaking much at all, his attention was paid to Frodo and little else. Occasionally, Moriond would stop and place Frodo delicately into Strider's arms, then summon the spectral owl again. The owl gave Frodo some lucidity back, enough to roughly communicate with his companions.

They were camped in a secluded grove, the owl was softly hooting from its place beside Frodo. It gave him enough strength to listen as Sam revealed where they were.

"Trolls of stone Mr. Frodo! Just like in Bilbo's old tales! This is where he was almost made into soup." He was trying to hide his worry behind enthusiasm but Samwise Gamgee was no actor.

Frodo could only nod and admire the statues above him. Magic and adventure had been part of his life since childhood. Listening to tales of the Lonely Mountains at Bilbo's knee had given him a grand imagination as a youngster. To actually see the stone trolls face to face normally would have brought him great wonder; the constant pressure on his heart and mind would give him no reprieve to do so.

Strider approached with some water, as he did so the owl dissipated and Frodo's vision quickly became shrouded once more.

Seeing Frodo's state revert once again, Strider cursed the Nine. Hadrian's conjuration could only do so much. He explained that it could not cure or even stop Frodo's condition, it could simply bandage the wound and slow the bleeding. Strider and Sam ventured into the woods in search of athelas, kingsfoil as Samwise knew it.

Merry and Pippin were huddled together by the fire, taking what little comfort they could and quite shaken. Moriond passed them each some bread, smiling reassuringly at them.

"Mr. Moriond, what's going to happen to Frodo?"

"Nothing young ones, Frodo will be just fine, Estel and I will make sure of it."

Feeling lightened by Moriond kind words, Merry couldn't stop himself from making a small jape. "Really, 'young ones'? Mr. Moriond I'll have you know both Pippin and I are 40 years old. We've probably seen as many winters as Strider." He said smugly.

Moriond chuckled and was about to reply when he abruptly drew his sword and twisted, rising to block the hobbits.

"Who goes there!?", he shouted into the darkness.

A warm light filled the grove, driving the shadows away and illuminating Moriond and the hobbits. The hobbits knew they should be afraid, yet under this new light they couldn't help but feel relieved, like a weight was being removed from their shoulders.

Out of the woods came a woman, beautiful and ethereal, with an inhuman grace and features that were simultaneously soft and regal. Merry and Pippin couldn't believe their eyes, staring unblinking until Strider came in behind her, Sam in tow.

The woman now stood in front of Moriond, bearing a small frown. "Moriond… I didn't expect to find you here." There was a frostiness in her tone that didn't have any place coming from her in Sam's opinion.

This was an elf! A real elf! The gaffer back home would never believe it when he told him about this. Even with his enthusiasm about the elf maiden helping to heal Frodo, Sam also didn't like the way she addressed Moriond. The man did seem a tad strange, but that came with being a wizard if Gandalf was anything to go by. Strider trusted him, and the feeling that strange glowing owl gave off reminded Sam of warm days in the garden with his mother back when he was just a wee little hobbit.

"Lady Arwen, it is always a pleasure. I see you've found Estel, of course, you are like a bloodhound when it comes to him aren't you." Moriond smirked as he said bloodhound, and in response, the elf - Lady Arwen - frowned deeper.

"I have no time for your pettiness. I must take the hobbit to my father, he will be able to heal the ringbearer." Lady Arwen's promise made Sam's heart fill with hope, only for it to tempered with worry by Moriond second later.

"And how will one elf on horseback outpace the Nine? I have a better chance of getting him to safety." Moriond's hand was clutching his staff tightly, and his sword was still drawn.

"Once I cross the Ford of Bruinen my father will protect me." Arwen retorted.

"I can protect him the entire way," He turned to Strider, "Let me take the hobbit, you and the Lady Arwen can make sure the rest of them make it safely" he implored.

Strider stopped Moriond with a hand, surprising Sam, he wouldn't have thought a mere Ranger could silence a wizard and an elf.

"Arwen will take Frodo but Moriond will help create a distraction. Whatever happens Frodo must reach Rivendell."

They parted ways after quickly packing up their camp. Merry, Pippin and Sam followed Strider to one of the better known paths while Lady Arwen strapped Frodo to her saddle and left quickly with Moriond hot on her heels. Sam swore he heard Moriond muttering something about "...impertinent elflings" as he sped off behind her.

Sam could only hope he'd see all three of them in Rivendell, safe and sound.

/

ENVOY OF MANWE

Hadrian (Ilmare - Starlight) acts as Gandalf's (Olorin) aide, son/grandson and apprentice. He usually accompanies Gandalf garbed in black, he helps to put others more at ease with Gandalf giving his wisdom even more of a presence.

Refered to as: Moriond (Black Son) by the Elves, Khoatto (Bird Father) by ancient Men, furkhingang (World Walker) to the Dwarves and Hadrian The Black in Westron.

While Gandalf and Harry spent many years together amongst the elves, Harry traveled much more frequently among the people of Eorl, the precursors to Rohan and quickly became a legend and friend to them. He also spent time in the dwarven kingdoms, not so much in the mines but instead among the tall peaks and cliffs.

A common sign of Harry is said to be the flocking of birds. The Dwarves say that the first time Harry came to their halls it was because he was following a majestic eagle and was attempting to climb the blue mountains to find its nest.


	2. Young Bird - Pt 2

'The worst thing about them is the screeching'

That was the only thought Harry could make before he was forced to dodge another swing from the Black Rider beside him. Arwen was ahead by a hundred or so yards with 2 riders hot on her trail, while Harry was keeping the remaining 3 occupied. By occupied, he meant the Ringwraiths were doing their best to ride him down like a dog. Harry could already feel the cut on his leg bleeding down his pants.

Thankfully, the Ford was near. Spurring on his horse he turned around in is saddle and thrust his staff out at his pursuers, a huge spectral owl burst forth and smashed into one of the Riders, the other two roughly pulling their steeds out of the way.

He caught up with the 2 Riders closest to Arwen, the Ford was in the distance and she was nearly across. Cutting in front of the Riders, Harry let his staff drag along the ground beneath him. From the small track he'd made, a blast of wind shot rocks and roots into the Rider's faces; their mounts took the brunt of it and fell.

Harry descended into the water and crossed the ford without any trouble, he was relieved to see Arwen on the other bank waiting for him, a deep frown upon her face.

"Time is of the essence, we have no time for your games."

Correction, he was relieved to see Frodo safe and sound.

The shrieks of the Black Riders forced his attention back across the water, the 5 had recovered and were wading into the rapids. Arwen drew her sword and began speaking under her breath. Harry could feel the magic of Lord Elrond respond to his daughters song, the waters began to rise and the roaring wave crashed down on the Riders, washing them away like filth.

'The horses were a nice touch'

"Frodo! Stay with me Frodo!"

Arwen's pleas had Harry quickly dismounting and rushing to the young Hobbit's side. Frodo was pale, his eyes losing their luster and the smell of rot came was heavy on his breath; the contact with the Ringwraiths had quickened his condition. Harry summoned his owl, but the poison had spread too far and the phantasm had no effect. Harry was desperately trying to think of a way to get Frodo to Rivendell fast.

His worries were for nothing, before he could even think up a way to help, a party of riders broke through the treeline and made straight for them. Harry could only smile in relief when he saw Gandalf ride closer with Lord Elrond not far behind.

Looking back down he took a firm hold of Frodo's hand, "You're going to be alright Frodo" he whispered.

/

Harry watched through the window as Frodo woke up. If there's one thing he and the Hobbit had in common it's the sense of relief at seeing Gandalf. He noticed Aragorn, that was how he introduced himself to the hobbits at any rate, coming up with more miniature mischief makers.

The twins seem to be ready to burst with excitement, before they were in arm's reach of the door Harry quickly stepped in front of them.

"Ah ah ah." He ignored Merry and Pippin's outrage, "Frodo and Gandalf need to have a talk first, why don't we get something to eat hmm?"

The mention of food and a quick peek through the window satisfied the boys and moments later Harry was leading 3 hungry halflings through the wonders of Rivendell; Sam especially seemed taken with the Valley, and Harry couldn't blame him, he got the same feeling every time he returned.

"Mr. Moriond?" Sam asked while they sit a table enjoying lunch, "If you're a wizard, how do you know Gandalf?"

Harry finished his stew before answering, "That's not an easy thing to answer Sam, the best way to explain it would be… Gandalf is my grandfather and my master."

"That doesn't seem like a complicated answer."

"I guess it doesn't."

"Moriond, how come you never came with Gandalf to visit the Shire?" Mary managed to ask through a mouthful of mutton and carrots.

"The Shire is Gandalf's little secret, I suppose one could call it his summer home. Gandalf visits the Shire during more peaceful times, mostly for relaxation and rest."

"If there's any place to do it, the Shire's the best" Sam agreed.

"We don't travel together often anymore. I have my own duties and responsibilities, besides, I rather enjoy hearing his stories about Hobbiton and you Hobbits when I rejoin him." Harry gave a secretive smile and a wink to the interested Hobbits.

Across the causeway, Harry saw Lord Elrond and Gandalf making their way towards the library, not long after, Frodo followed them. He walked tenderly and with some caution but his eyes were full of wonder. Harry noticed Aragorn had snuck off during the meal but doubtlessly he was seeking out his precious Luthien.

Harry smiled, "Looks like you three should go make sure Mr. Baggins doesn't go hungry." The Hobbits seemed confused before Sam shot up at the site of his friend on his feet.

Harry put some food on a plate and wrapped in cloth, he handed the goods off to Sam who quickly ran after Merry and Pippin. Reaching Frodo as he entered one of Rivendell's many gardens, the Hobbits nearly fell over each in delight.

He quickly cleaned up what was left on the table and made his way to the Kitchens, once that was taken care of, he found himself outside of Lord Elrond's study. A soft knock that went without answer prompted him to quietly slip into the room.

Two of the wisest men in Middle-Earth were hunched over a pile of old books and maps, ink and quills sat on top of half finished maps and lists covered the tables. He stopped for a moment to study one such parchment. It held a rough sketch of Middle Earth from the Misty Mountains to Mordor. There were lines of ink and arrows originating in Rivendell and crisscrossing all over the map; many were either incomplete or scratched out at different points. Some paths went through the Misty Mountains then east into Erebor, some going south into Rohan; one even went far past the Gap of Rohan, through the mountains of Emred Nimrais into Gondor and then travelling east. In the end all of them were crossed out and the parchment had been discarded.

"Moriond, have you eaten?"

Gandalf's voice drew his eyes away from the map, Lord Elrond and Gandalf finally noticed his presence and had stepped away from their work.

He smiled and heft the jug of water on to a table, "I spent lunch with the Hobbits before sending them off with Frodo. I thought perhaps you two would enjoy a drink" he poured three glasses and passed them out, "before you turned into dry parchments yourselves."

"Thank you Hadrian but I'm not so old that I'll turn into a book yet." Gandalf quipped.

Harry couldn't keep the snark from his lips, "You're skins already leather Gandalf, just need to fill you with pages and you'll feel right at home on a shelf."

Neither Wizard could contain his laughter as they continued to poke and prod at one another, catching up after so many months apart.

/

Lord Elrond observed the two in silence, enjoying the clear water. Seeing Moriond and Gandalf together always brought a quiet joy to his heart. The Istari as he knew them were not always a happy sort, wise of course, but not happy. At times they were very clearly of a different nature than man or elf; Saruman, once a trusted voice, often became unnaturally driven in his single minded search for answers; Radagast had lost himself in the heartbeats and furs of Mirkwood ages ago; as for the Blue Wizards, Alatar and Pallando, they'd disappeared into the plains and deserts of Harad set on freeing the plainsmen from Sauron's influence but had not been seen for nearly an age. Gandalf and Moriond were the most like Men in his opinion, they weren't bastions of power or mysterious soothsayers, to the men of Rohan and Gondor they were oddities,a strange wizard and his charismatic grandson.

It was a thousand years after the the defeat of Sauron, long after the tale of The Last Alliance had transformed into legend, that the Istari came to Middle-Earth. Each of them a Maia sent by the Valar to counsel and assist those who opposed Sauron.

Curunir, later known as Saruman the White, appeared first; he quickly became a voice of authority and knowledge among the elves of the West and gained the ear of many kings and lords.

Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey, crossed the sea second; for many centuries he lived and taught among the elves as a stranger and only revealed himself as a Wizard when the entire Order had arrived.

Radagast the Brown, arrived alongside Gandalf; he wasted no time in disappearing into the deep forests of the world, seeking to protect and nurture the flora and fauna over aiding Men and Elves.

Alatar and Pallando, the Blue Wizards, followed; they spent time learning of the Elves and the Numenoreans but ever were they drifting to the East and when they heard of the harsh conditions the Easterlings thrived in they set of to see those people themselves.

When the 5 Istari settled into Middle-Earth they joined the White Council, a group that included himself, the Council had been shocked when word was sent by Cirdan from the Grey Havens that another Istari had crossed the Straight Road. Gandalf had volunteered to meet the unexpected guest and bring him to Rivendell. What should have been a simple trip of a few weeks to journey to the Grey Havens and back ended up taking 2 years, Gandalf and the mysterious Wizard were pulled from one adventure to the next.

Gandalf did return to Rivendell but not with a stranger, by his side rode a young man he considered in many ways to be his apprentice or grandson. Mithrandir introduced them all to Moriond, or Hadrian as he was called by the men of Eriador. So unlike his compatriots Elrond first believed him to be under some sort of glamour, standing before him had not been a wizened elder but a spry man with a wild mane of black hair and deep emerald eyes. More than his appearance, his attire caused some concern among the White Council, after all a title like "Moriond the Black" did not instill confidence that he was an ally. It became clear after sitting with the Istari that Hadrian did not embody any malice, quite the opposite, Galadriel once described him as "The darkness that makes the stars shine ever brighter." The description was apt, his role at Gandalf's side helped to make them both more approachable and accepted among the Free Folk of Middle Earth.

While Gandalf rode throughout the lands, watching for signs of the enemy and ensuring the lands of Men were safe from Sauron's influence; Moriond kept company with the Sons of Erol and the Dwarves, learning from them and teaching in return. His young age meant he was not seen to be a meddling wiseman, Kings did not search him out, but their sons and daughters did and when they ascended to their thrones, they ensured the next generation spent time at Moriond's side.

The Dwarves indulged his fascination with heights and also with craft, he became well known for apprenticing to the best mountaineers and jewellers across Dwarfdom. Many Dwarven lines carried heirlooms of art crafted by Moriond in return for some favour done by their ancestors, or simply because their forefathers were on good terms with the Wizard; the royal line of Durin still passed down the enchanted toys Moriond had crafted for the sons of Durin IV.

Together the pair of Wizards had become well known across Middle Earth. Only after the disappearance of Earnur, the last King of Gondor, did the two begin to part ways frequently and for longer periods of time.

"Lord Elrond" Moriond said.

"Yes Moriond?"

"When will the council convene?"

Gandalf had informed Moriond of their plan and his role in the upcoming meeting, good, this would make things much easier.

"In a matter of days, we're waiting for the last parties to arrive."

/

 **A/N: For anyone that's interested in reading HP / LOTR Fanfics I cannot recommend highly enough** _Shadow of Angmar_ **by Steelbadger. It's one of my favourite fics and has been a huge inspiration for me. Please check it out if you really love elegant writing, interesting plot and lots n lots of Lore (yes with the capital "L").**


	3. The Salt Prince - Pt 1

"Watch your feet here, last thing we need is either of us being dragged into the current."

Sam stepped carefully along the edge of the Anduin. They'd entered the Northern part of Ithilien some days ago and had been making steady progress south. Gollum assured them that once they were in sight of Osgiliath they would turn east and make for the "secret stairs' as he called them. Samwise may have agreed to follow the sickly creature but the last thing he planned to do was trust him.

"Considering what happened the last time we tried to go swimming, I completely agree with you Sam."

"Until I grow grey I'll bet my garden it was that Took, Hamson that stole my breeches!"

Moments of laughter were few and far between since they had parted from the Fellowship; the closer they came to the mountains of Mordor, the farther away the Shire was. The small sliver of happiness was ruined when Gollum came sulking back out of the forest.

"Come along Master, there is many dangers here. Hunters and beasts who would not like us waltzing through their woods." Gollum's grating voice pricked Sam's ear in the worst way.

"You heard him Sam, we'd better get a move on. A shame really, Ithilien seems like such a beautiful place."

Checking their packs, Frodo withdrew their map, a gift from Bilbo when they had departed Rivendell. His uncle had transcribed a map using both his own knowledge and the personal collection of Lord Elrond. It was beautiful and written upon fine elven-made vellum. It's only flaw was the loss of detail the further East it went. While the paths and rivers of Eregion and Rohan were detailed, Gondor and Rhovanion had only the largest paths marked down.

The dotted line leading south to Osgiliath was straight on the map but in reality it snaked and circled through the canopy of the forest; more than once they had been turned around then had to backtrack to find a way through the bush and hills. As such, Sam and Frodo had been making their own map; Frodo knew the basics after learning from Bilbo, while Sam had an eye for landmarks and differing landmarks from each other.

Frodo marked their progress and they were on their way, closer and closer to the Shadow in the east.

/

"Should we turn back?"

"We've been following the river for an entire day, we'd have to reach that shallow crossing we passed yesterday to get back to the other side. Can we not stay on this path?"

"Sam we don't know how far the river will go west for or where the next crossing is." Frodo sat with a heave and leaned against a tree, taking a moment to watch the sunset. "We should camp for the night and then send Smeagol out to find a path."

Sam took off his pack and began setting out some pots, "It was that trickster's idea to cross in the first place!"

"Sam you can't expect him to know every inch of the land, he knows where we're going and we have to trust him."

"I trust that twisted thing as much I'd trust an orc."

"If you feel that way then maybe you should sleep somewhere else." Frodo said quietly, he was tired and hearing Sam insult Smeagol only exhausted him further.

Sam didn't respond only stared at his friend, quietly he gathered up his backpack and walked down the shore until he and Frodo were only noticeable by their respective fires. Looking at the water Frodo wanted to call out and apologize but he could barely keep his eyes open and his voice would not come. Stars began to peek out across the sky as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the shadows seemed deeper without the comfort of Sam nearby. Smeagol hat yet to return but Frodo was sure he would be fine, probably fishing in some dark creek. Both Hobbits sat, tired and disheartened with only the sight of the rising moon and the rush of the Anduin to give them company.

Frodo was beginning to drift off when soft music passed by his ears.

(Here's an excellent vocal version, just replace the voice with a soft man's. watch?v=pdFbFtCNXCY)

"Eärendil was a mariner  
that tarried in Arvernien;  
he built a boat of timber felled  
in Nimbrethil to journey in;  
her sails he wove of silver fair,  
of silver were her lanterns made,  
her prow was fashioned like a swan,  
and light upon her banners laid."

Frodo slowly sat up, he noticed Sam had stood and drew closer. They both cautiously listened to the tune.

"In panoply of ancient kings,  
in chainéd rings he armoured him;  
his shining shield was scored with runes  
to ward all wounds and harm from him;  
his bow was made of dragon-horn,  
his arrows shorn of ebony;  
of silver was his habergeon,  
his scabbard of chalcedony;  
his sword of steel was valiant,  
of adamant his helmet tall,  
an eagle-plume upon his crest,  
upon his breast an emerald."

"Where's it coming from Mr. Frodo?" Sam softly asked.

"Beneath the Moon and under star  
he wandered far from northern strands,  
bewildered on enchanted ways  
beyond the days of mortal lands.  
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice  
where shadow lies on frozen hills,  
from nether heats and burning waste  
he turned in haste, and roving still  
on starless waters far astray  
at last he came to Night of Naught,  
and passed, and never sight he saw  
of shining shore nor light he sought.  
The winds of wrath came driving him,  
and blindly in the foam he fled  
from west to east and errandless,  
unheralded he homeward sped."

Frodo closed his eyes and walked closer to the water, going so far as to go as deep as his ankles in the cold current of the Anduin.

"There flying Elwing came to him,  
and flame was in the darkness lit;  
more bright than light of diamond  
the fire upon her carcanet.  
The Silmaril she bound on him  
and crowned him with the living light  
and dauntless then with burning brow  
he turned his prow; and in the night  
from Otherworld beyond the Sea  
there strong and free a storm arose,  
a wind of power in Tarmenel;  
by paths that seldom mortal goes  
his boat it bore with biting breath  
as might of death across the grey  
and long forsaken seas distressed;  
from east to west he passed away."

Sam joined him in the water, ignoring his own warnings.

"Through Evernight he back was borne  
on black and roaring waves that ran  
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores  
that drowned before the Days began,  
until he heard on strands of pearl  
where ends the world the music long,  
where ever-foaming billows roll  
the yellow gold and jewels wan.  
He saw the Mountain silent rise  
where twilight lies upon the knees  
of Valinor, and Eldamar  
beheld afar beyond the seas.  
A wanderer escaped from night  
to haven white he came at last,  
to Elvenhome the green and fair  
where keen the air, where pale as glass  
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin  
a-glimmer in a valley sheer  
the lamplit towers of Tirion  
are mirrored on the Shadowmere."

They both turned south and saw a soft glow in the distance, a single lamp that bore more light than a bonfire. It was gently sailing closer, the voice growing stronger with every second.

"He tarried there from errantry,  
and melodies they taught to him,  
and sages old him marvels told,  
and harps of gold they brought to him.  
They clothed him then in elven-white,  
and seven lights before him sent,  
as through the Calacirian  
to hidden land forlorn he went.  
He came unto the timeless halls  
where shining fall the countless years,  
and endless reigns the Elder King  
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;  
and words unheard were spoken then  
of folk and Men and Elven-kin,  
beyond the world were visions showed  
forbid to those that dwell therein."

"It's beautiful Sam."

"You'll hear no arguments from me Mr. Frodo."

The voice was clear and full of energy but not overpowering, accompanied by the strumming it fit perfectly into the twilight of the forest. It didn't block out the life around it with its verses but rather flirted between the crows of owls and creaks of branches, turning the woods into a part of the melody.

"A ship then new they built for him  
of mithril and of elven-glass  
with shining prow; no shaven oar  
nor sail she bore on silver mast:  
the Silmaril as lantern light  
and banner bright with living flame  
to gleam thereon by Elbereth  
herself was set, who thither came  
and wings immortal made for him,  
and laid on him undying doom,  
to sail the shoreless skies and come  
behind the Sun and light of Moon."

The lone lamp was hanging from the prow of a boat, a boat unlike anything the two Hobbits had ever set eyes upon. It was huge, bigger than any of the fishing boats seen in the Shire. Made from green wood, the planks seemed to warp and bend coming together in a graceful unbroken- oval; it's masthead was expertly shaped into the likeness of a bearded man bearing a helm of water; the sail was made of clean white cloth and in the warm light Frodo thought it bore a great whale in front of a wave.

"And over Middle-earth he passed  
and heard at last the weeping sore  
of women and of elven-maids  
in Elder Days, in years of yore.  
But on him mighty doom was laid,  
till Moon should fade, an orbéd star  
to pass, and tarry never more  
on Hither Shores where Mortals are;  
for ever still a herald on  
an errand that should never rest  
to bear his shining lamp afar,  
the Flammifer of Westernesse."

The ship had been slowly drifting through the water, which was why it took Frodo and Sam a few moments to realize the vessel had stopped in front of them and the singing had ended as well.

"Did you enjoy the song?"

The cheerful question came from the man leaning over the side of the strange ship. Sam couldn't see him very clearly but he looked quite young, Sam did notice his hair was dark as coffee and was pulled into a long braid that draped over his shoulder.

While Sam was busy studying the strange sailor, Frodo actually went deeper into the water. "Very much so! Where did you hear it?" Frodo called out.

"An acquaintance of mine learnt it some years ago and taught it to me."

Sam rushed forward and grabbed Frodo's shoulder to stop him from going any further.

"What are you doing sailing upriver in the middle of the night?"

"What are two Hobbits doing in the middle of Gondor?"

"Nothing a stranger such as yourself should be concerned about."

The stranger seemed curious and Sam's declaration had him leaning back from the railing and disappearing onto the deck. Sam was hoping the sailor would just move on, the night was proving to be too much trouble. A rope of all things interrupted his thoughts, the heavy chord landing over his shoulder and splashing into the water.

"Why don't you pull me in, I've got some food I'd be willing to share." The stranger was standing at the railing again, sporting a small smile.

Frodo took the decision away from Sam, grabbing the rope and rushing to pull it toward the shore. Sam reluctantly began helping Frodo, to both their surprise the ship sailed easily and dug into the rocky ground. Jumping over the side the stranger, evidently a man landed on the ground and took the rope from the Hobbits and tied it to a thick-trunked tree.

Turning back to the pair, Sam took in the man's clothes. A pair of thick boots tied up that rode almost to his knees, dark pants tied by a thick belt adorned with silver and sapphires. Tucked under said belt was a dark green tunic, it fit tight on his torso; around the collar and cuffs was yellow fabric embroidered with letters and designs. Sam also noted he had a sheathe attached at his side big enough for a sword, at least a sword by Hobbit reckoning. The sheathe drew his eye because it was decorated with designs that reminded him of Boromir's armour, it bore a different version of the White Tree and had seven small garnets worked into the design.

Frodo stepped in between the two, breaking Sam's concentration, and held his hand out; sometimes his friend was too trusting, all it took was a good song and a kind smile to charm the humble Hobbit.

"My name's Frodo and this is Sam, there's another traveling with us who goes by Smeagol. Can I ask what you're doing here? I've never heard of a ship being able to sail the Anduin."

"A good question. Depending on where you're from you might call me many different names. I've heard of the Shire but I've never been there myself, so you can call me Hadrian."

Hadrian shook Frodo's hand then returned to his boat, climbing up a net on the side and retrieving some supplies and then joining the Hobbits at their campsite. Sam had gotten the fire going and had started roasting some vegetables he gathered earlier. Hadrian took out a roll of leather and opened it to reveal several fish covered in salt. Sam couldn't help but admire Hadrian's skill as he pulled out a small knife and expertly prepared the fish. Soon a stew and several fish were cooking over the fire.

"I hope you enjoy the cod, I caught them fresh yesterday."

"How did you catch fresh fish yesterday? We're in the middle of Gondor!"

"You might have noticed my ship is somewhat special Master Samwise."

"The only ships I've read about that could travel like that were Elven or Numenorean!"

Sam's incredulous face and Frodo's eager smile was such a great juxtaposition that Hadrian couldn't help but laugh at the two travellers.

"Master Frodo is right, it is an Elven ship. A very wise and great shipwright helped me build her."

The fish had finished and the acquaintances were digging in with relish. They may have been on the other side of the world but Hobbits still loved to eat.

"I typically stay in the Bay of Belfalas and keep to Southern Gondor" Hadrian finished another mouthful of stew, "occasionally I come up the Anduin to visit Osgiliath and some other settlements."

"We're headed to Osgiliath ourselves."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam's admonishment went ignored.

"Would you be able to help us Mr. Hadrian?"

Hadrian licked his lips and swallowed down the last of the stew and sat back. He stared at Frodo and that friendly gaze he met them with slowly faded into something… almost sinister. Frodo instinctively covered the Ring beneath his shirt with his hand, unintentionally drawing Hadrian's eyes right to it. Neither of them saw Sam slowly reach for the sword strapped to his packs.

"In return for the delicious stew, helping you is the proper thing to do I think." Hadrian's gaze drifted up from the Ring to Frodo's face and his warm smile returned. Frodo relaxed and Sam took his hand off the blade now in his lap.

"We'd very much appreciate it, wouldn't we Sam?"

Taking a deep breath Sam gave a nod.

"Very good!" Hadrian clapped his hands and stood. The sailor returned to his ship and the Hobbits went about cleaning up their dishes. When Hadrian cam close again he was holding two pouches tied to strings.

He placed one in both their hands and urged them to open the small pouch, the pouch itself was made of some kind of animal fur and the inside was oily smooth. Frodo shook its contents out onto his palm and a series of carved stones fell out. Each one was a figure in the shape of an animal; there was a stag, a fish, an eagle, a dog, a badger, a shark, they weren't extremely detailed but each one bore runes carved into their backs.

"This looks like elvish writing but… not quite right." Frodo commented.

"You've got a keen eye Master Frodo. They're Anduac runes, the language of ancient Numenor, the language was unique but did have similarities to Sindarin. That crossover is why you might recognize parts of the characters but the meaning of the word would be beyond you."

Hadrian kneeled before the Hobbits.

"You two are on a very important journey."

The Hobbit's breath froze in their chests.

"You have come far but there is still a few steps left."

Hadrian reached over and slipped the pouches over Sam and Frodo's necks.

"When spears of gold clash with men of wood, show those pouches to the son of Minas Tirith and he shall help you find your way."

Without waiting for a response, Hadrian clasped both Hobbits shoulders and smiled (a kind but morose expression) and bid them farewell. Frodo and Sam watched in silence as their mysterious visitor unmoored his vessel and climbed into it. The boat drifted without aid back into the river and continued its lax journey.

The last they heard from Hadrian was a shout from the water, "Keep faith in each other, Frodo, Sam. When stranded at sea all you can rely is the person next to you."

The green ship faded into the distance and the sound of life returned to the shore.

/

 **Envoy of Ulmo**

 **Hadrian (Singecundo – Salt Prince), was sent by Ulmo to aid Gondor. Ulmo saw the descendants of Numenor as the first line of defense against the return of Sauron.**

 **The legacy of the great kingdoms of Gondolin and Nagortath from the first age. Since Gondor reigned over much of the coast south of the White Mountains his Istari could patrol the seas and if need be, come north up the Anduin.**

 **Refered to as: Calencair (Green Sailor) to the Elves, Tirianen (Water Watcher) in Gondor. Or Hadrian the Green in Westron.**


End file.
